Lost and Found
by thes233
Summary: After the explosion, when the suit is scattered on the ground in thousands of pieces, and Tony is gone, Steve is lost. His still has his team but moving on isn't as easy as it sounds – although, being left behind isn't easy, either.
1. Lost - Steve

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything**

* * *

 _After e explosion, when the suit is shattered on the ground in thousands of pieces, and Tony is gone, Steve is lost. He still has his team, but moving on isn't as easy as it sounds - although, being left behind isn't easy, either._

* * *

 **Lost and Found - 1**

 **Lost - Steve**

* * *

It had been supposed to be an easy mission, Steve mused, as he watched his teammates. But the bots had turned out to be more persistent than they had expected. They were all injured. Clint had jumped off several buildings, and twice it had been a close call, Tony barely making it in time to catch him. Natasha had gotten hit badly, and was limping towards him, but she hadn't allowed him to send her back to the tower. Especially since he wasn't in a much better shape.

Steve wished he'd be able to say that it wasn't in vain, but the bots had suddenly vanished. It was hard to admit, but they had been losing the battle before, and the sudden retreat of the bots probably saved them, but it was also peculiar.

He saw Tony fly towards them. The suit had taken a lot of damage, and the only reason why he hadn't benched Tony was that he'd known that the billionaire wouldn't listen anyways. But he had kept an eye on him, flinching when he had crashed into the floor after a particularly strong blast. It was never easy to watch Tony fight, but today it had been different. Tony's comm had been broken halfway through the battle, and they hadn't been able to communicate with Tony. Tony had hovered above them afterwards, only engaging in fights when he needed to. Steve suspected that he'd found it hard to fight as part of the team when he was unable to talk with them.

Tony was now flying towards them, a bit slower than usually. Maybe the suit was more damaged than they had realized. Steve's heart clenched at his next thought – maybe the genius had been hurt. Usually the suit took damage, but it did its job protecting Tony.

When it happened, it came as a surprise. At first, he wasn't able to place the explosion, and started looking around, frantically searching for the source of the sound, but not finding anything. He could see that Natasha and Clint were doing the same, until Natasha's eyes went wide, and she froze. Steve followed her gaze, uneasiness growing in his stomach.

Iron Man was no longer in the air. Instead, there were pieces of red and gold armor lying on the floor. It took Steve a second to process the scene in front of him. His gaze got caught on the golden faceplate, which was closest to him. It had broken into two pieces, an uneven break going through the middle. Close by, he could make out something that looked suspiciously like a part of the arc reactor.

His breath hitched.

He heard Clint curse, and suddenly both the archer and the spy were by his sided. He found it hard to focus, numbness was taking over his body. His eyes scanned the pieces, desperately trying to find a trace of – he though his chest would give in to the pressure he felt, he couldn't breathe, not matter how hard he tried to gasp for air. He felt Natasha's burning fingers on his shoulder,

There was no sign of Tony Stark.

Tony had been inside the suit.

Steve's brain refused to come to the easiest conclusion. But, although he knew Tony was brilliant and found a solution for everything, he knew that there was no way Tony could have made it out of the suit. The blast had come out of nowhere, no prior warning. Steve felt his chest tighten.

Tony had been in the suit when it exploded.

The suit that was now scattered across the street

He felt Natasha move her hand. He needed to breath, but there was no air in his burning lungs. "Breath, Steve", he heard Natasha say, her voice rasp. He tore his gaze away from the pieces, looked at her. Her expression was blank, she had put on a carefully crafted mask.

The serum had healed him. Why did it feel so much like an asthma attack?

Clint pulled him away, away from the remains of the suit, away from the crowd that was forming around them. He barely heard the people whisper, they had all seen the explosion. He was surrounded by an ocean of noises, and he still couldn't breathe, and the fire in his lungs didn't want to die down.

He just let Clint pull him along until they reached their destination, not caring about where they were going. Every piece in him screamed to go back – Tony had to be there, Tony had to be somewhere. He wouldn't just – he wouldn't –

A sob broke free from Steve's throat.

"We'll take care of it," he heard someone say, "just make sure he's alright.

They were surrounded by people in black uniforms, and his brain unconsciously made the connection. They were at SHIELD.

* * *

 _He didn't really know why he felt this much anger at the man in front of him. They had just met, and not even spoken a word with each other._

 _He'd heard about him, maybe that was the reason. He had promised himself he'd give Howard's son a chance, but the headlines the man had made were had shaped his opinion, and as soon as Stark spoke, Steve found his suspicions confirmed._

 _Howard would hate to know how selfish and uncaring his son had turned out to be._

 _And then he found himself spewing words full of hate at the other man. Although, Stark did know how the retaliate, he had to admit that._

 _His opinion would change soon. After Tony Stark decided to become a team player. After he flew a nuke into space, willing to sacrifice himself. After he survived somehow._

 _Steve couldn't admit it to himself, but he was more than relieved when Tony opened his eyes. A heavy weight lift of his chest, and his heart was moved by a feeling he wouldn't be able to define until much later._

* * *

Every single step was a struggle. He wanted to run back, go back to hiding in his room, because he felt safe there, but he couldn't. His team was hurting enough already, and he was just adding to it – he didn't need them to worry about him. He knew that they worried. He'd been hiding in his room for the past week, having only JARVIS telling him.

He was fine, he had tried to persuade himself, although he knew that he wasn't. He hadn't just lost a teammate. He'd lost so much more.

The closer he got to the living room, the heavier the silence felt on his shoulders. It wasn't supposed to be quiet. Usually, there was always some noise in their common areas. But lately, he hadn't even heard Thor's voice rumbling through the hallways.

They were all mourning, and he was just making it harder for them.

With a quiet sigh, he straightened up before he entered the living room. Four pairs of eyes immediately latched onto him, examined him. Steve knew that he looked like a mess. He hadn't showered, he hadn't slept, and his eyes were red. He looked pale, and dark circles surrounded his eyes. For a second, he was ashamed, but then he pushed the feeling aside.

They were his friends. They'd understand.

Natasha walked over to him, and her hug came as a surprise. She usually held back on her feelings, was rarely open about them. But then he saw the dark shadows under her eyes, and he understood. They were feeling the same. Tony had been important to them, as well. Without further hesitation, he pulled her closer.

"Oh Steve", she whispered. He had never heard her voice this hoarse before. His heart broke all over again at the sound, and he clung onto her with his arms.

When he let go again, Clint, Bruce and Thor had joined them, as well. There were so many things he wanted to say, wanted to let them know, but he couldn't find the words to express them. And thus, he just stood there, in silence, and Bruce gave him a small smile.

"We know", he said quietly.

It was different, being together without Tony. Although they tried to avoid talking about it, but it always stood between them. Tony was declared dead, but there was no funeral. Mainly because they all refused to bury an empty coffin.

Two weeks after Tony's death, Natasha and Clint left to go on a mission for SHIELD. Their departure left the tower even emptier, and Steve found himself spending most of the time either in his room or in their gym. He lost count of how many punching bags he broke, it must have been many. JARVIS automatically reordered them, so he didn't have to fear running out, and he found that punching was a good way to ignore his feelings, at least for a while.

JARVIS had been acting differently ever since the mission. It took Bruce three weeks to figure out – the AI hadn't been connected to the suit. His connection with Tony had been interrupted the same time his comm was broken.

Steve had never felt so powerless before, he'd never forgive himself for not pulling Tony out of the fight. He'd never forgive Tony for continuing to fight, either. The question was constantly on his mind – why had the genius not pulled out?

He spent his nights awake, unable to sleep. Nightmares haunted him as soon as he closed his eyes. He saw the suit explode, again and again. He hadn't seen it happen at the time, but there had been footage, and he'd seen it, going against the advice of his teammates. He'd needed to see it. Deep down he knew that he'd hoped for a sign that Tony could have made it, somehow, but this hope had been shattered by the video.

Natasha and Clint came back, unharmed to his relief. The dynamics of their team had shifted, they had started to worry about one of them not coming back. While they still fought ruthlessly against villains, there was always that bitter fear that one of them wouldn't make it out.

The possibility had always existed, but it had become a reality, and not one of them would be able to handle losing another teammate.

Steve had retreated, not feeling able to be the leader the team would need. While he was still the one giving orders on missions and during battles, he stayed to himself when they were in the tower. Occasionally, his teammates joined him during one of his training sessions, to his relief, they never tried to lure him out of the cocoon he had created.

Apparently, they had decided to let him grief.

* * *

 _"_ _You have been avoiding me," Tony stated, and Steve froze._

 _It was true. He had been avoiding the billionaire, and it was pure luck that Tony had caught him in the kitchen._

 _Tony had invited them to live in the tower after the battle, and they all had accepted. It had taken a while to get used to each other's company, as they were used to operating alone, but slowly, they had turned into a real team. Steve had scheduled regular training sessions, and they had found themselves eating their meals together, as well._

 _The more time they spent together, the closer they grew, and after a while, a fragile friendship had started to develop, growing stronger and stronger. They had started to trust each other, which increased their efficiency as a team._

 _About six months after the Chitauri Invasion, Steve had started to avoid Tony. Not because he didn't like the genius, quite the opposite, actually. He enjoyed his company more than he'd like to admit, especially because, as far as he knew, Tony's relationship with Pepper was still going strong. So he had decided to spare himself the pain and keep out of Tony's way until this infatuation had passed._

 _Only, it didn't pass._

 _"_ _I'm not," he tried to defend himself, but Tony only snorted in return._

 _"_ _I'm not stupid, Steve," he hissed. "Although I haven't figured out why, because, I thought we got over initial problems and, you know, I actually considered you my friend. Until you stopped talking to me!"_

 _Steve's shoulders sunk. He didn't really know what to say to that, how to explain his behavior. He wasn't keen on telling the truth, but couldn't come up with a believable lie, either._

 _"_ _I mean, I used to be able to talk to you about everything. And you told me stuff, as well. But now I know more about what's going on in Natasha's life, and that says something."_

 _Tony's eyes lit up, and Steve couldn't shake off the warmth that spread through his chest and for a second, he let himself believe that Tony could care in the way he wished he'd care. Tony's mouth continued moving, and Steve realized he was still talking, but he couldn't focus on his voice._

 _"_ _and – wait, are you even listening? Steve, what is wrong with you?"_

 _Steve turned around, away from Tony's accusing gaze._

 _"_ _I'm just trying to figure something out," he said quietly. He felt Tony come closer, and almost flinched when he felt a warm hand on his shoulder._

 _"_ _What? You know you're not alone, right?"_

 _Steve turned back to face him and found that he stood closer than anticipated. Trying to get a grip on himself, he nodded. "I know," he attempted to reassure the genius, but his voice sounded awfully weak._

 _Tony's eyes searched his face, wariness evident on his face, and Steve decided to screw it all. He'd be able to deal with the consequences._

 _To his surprise, there were none. Who would have thought Tony could reciprocate?_

* * *

They gave him three months. Then Natasha came hurling into his room and dragged him into the common area. "Movie night", she stated, her voice harsh, her eyes daring him to leave. He swallowed hard and saw that the rest of the team had already assembled in the living room. Clint and Bruce had managed to claim a space on the couch, Thor was sitting on the floor leaning against it.

The second couch was empty.

He could almost picture Tony occupying it, wearing a smirk on his face, and then moving his legs to make room for Steve. But then he blinked, and Tony was gone, and all that was left was the raw pain in his heart.

"He would want you to move on, Steve", Natasha continued, her voice softer. He let her push him to the couch, felt her sit down next to him. Clint started the movie, and Steve tried to focus on it, if only to prevent angering his team.

It felt good to be in their presence. It felt good to not be alone, or once. But it was painfully obvious to him that someone was missing, and he wondered if that hole would ever disappear.

He took off his ring a week after, when he came back to his room after their second movie night. The next day, he bought a chain, and put it around his neck, the ring dangling from it.

He would feel it burn against his skin during missions, would start fidgeting and playing with it during debriefs, during dinners, during movies.

"You are almost as bad as Tony," Clint commented after a couple of weeks, and it was the first time Steve heard Tony's name – they had all avoided saying it when he was around. Somehow, it hurt less than he had expected.

He discovered that, while the team couldn't replace Tony, they had made it their goal to distract him as much as possible, and it was working. He wasn't allowed to sulk in his room anymore, he barely had a minute to himself. Between sparring sessions, team activities and missions, he barely found a moment to breath, much less to think, and to his surprise, it helped.

The wound was slowly healing.

He never put off the necklace. It was hi memory of Tony, a reminder that the genius had been in his life. Five months after that one fateful attack, he managed to look at pictures. He hadn't been able to before, but it felt good, gave some kind of closure – until he realized that he forgot what Tony's voice sounded like and almost got a panic attack. It was only averted by Natasha rushing to his side after JARVIS alarmed her.

James Rhodes started to help them out during missions, when aerial support was needed. When Steve asked him why, he stated that Tony would have wanted him to, and no one could disagree. Tony had left him a better suit, and Steve offered him to move into the tower.

They renamed the tower. Tony had left it to the Avengers, and Steve could almost imagine Tony joking about changing the name - except, he couldn't conjure Tony's appearance in front of his inner eye anymore.

He touched the ring as he watched them take down the letters. Only the A remained – it would now stand for Avengers Tower, and while it felt wrong, it felt also right. A new start.

It hurt to move on without Tony, but parts of him would remain with them. They wouldn't erase him.

* * *

 _Waking up in the future, Steve had felt that he had lost everything. He had lost Bucky to the war, he'd lost the Howling Commandos._ _He'd lost his friends to time – some had died, some were still alive, but thy had aged, had lived their lives. He had lost Peggy, never gotten to dance with her._

 _But then Fury asked him to join the Avengers. Then came New York. And suddenly, he had a team. He had friends. He had Tony. And suddenly, the future didn't seem to be as bad anymore. Sure, he still wasn't completely used to modern times, especially technology could be hard, but he had Tony, who tried to teach him everything he needed._

 _He was blessed, he knew that much. And for a while, everything was going great._ _There were attacks, there were missions, but he came home to people who cared. He had a home._

 _For a while, he didn't think anything could ever get better. He and Tony fought, and made up. They had their disagreements, and sometimes ignored each other for days at a time, Steve occupying the gym and Tony his lab, until one of them cracked._

 _They celebrated their first anniversary, and time seemed to fly by. Thor went to Asgard and was absent for several months, and it was obvious that someone was missing, but he came back, and they celebrated Christmas together. Natasha went on a mission for SHIELD and was missing for a week until Tony was able to locate her, and they rescued her._

 _Their second anniversary came, and Tony took Steve out, and life had never been as perfect. Robots attacked the city, Stark tower almost got destroyed, and they had to fight for their home, but it turned out fine._

 _A month later, Tony proposed, and Steve accepted._

 _The wedding was quiet, only their closest friends were invited. Paparazzi flocked the place, but they managed to keep them out. Pepper brought her boyfriend, Thor invited Jane, and Clint and Natasha danced around each other, much to the amusement of test of the team._

 _Tony put the ring on Steve's finger, and he asked himself what he'd ever done to deserve this life._

* * *

It happened on a mission in Siberia. They were trying to take out a Hydra base, and their agents put up a fight. It was cold, and they were all tired, so they weren't delivering their best performance. They had left Bruce in the quinjet, unwilling to use the Hulk unless absolutely necessary,

Natasha barely escape a hit, and for a second Steve was distracted, paying more attention to her than to his opponent. And then he had a knife pressed to his throat. His breath hitched, and, for a second, he allowed himself to think that, if he died on this mission, he'd get to see Tony again, but then he heard Natasha yell for him.

He ducked out of the way, felt the knife slide along his throat, felt it rip his suit on the side of his neck. Then he elbowed his attacker, managing to break free. He wouldn't be beaten by Hydra, he wouldn't give them the satisfaction of having killed Captain America.

It took them a while to take out the base, but they managed to do it, and they stumbled back to the quinjet exhaustedly. Bruce awaited them, had prepared warm blankets, and gave them hot tea, and they had a laugh about it. Steve managed to take a short nap on the way back to New York, all while wishing he was in his bed.

He managed to get into his room, tiredness taking over his body, and took off his uniform. He'd need to get it fixed, the knife had done more damage than he had expected, and he wished Tony could be the one to fix it. He'd not only fix it, he'd come up with improvements. Out of habit, Steve reached for the ring, and found his neck empty.

Panic rose in his chest, and he desperately took apart his uniform, but it wasn't there, he couldn't find it. Hs heart started racing, and he tried to remember, but he knew he had put it on before the mission, he always did.

He could hear JARVIS say something, but he didn't understand. The door flew open, he felt cold air against his skin, but his vision was blurry, and he couldn't make out the person in front of him.

He had lost the ring.

He remembered the knife cutting the fabric of his suit, and it must have cut the necklace as well. His ring was in Siberia, somewhere, covered by snow and ice. It was always the ice. A sob escaped his throat, and more voiced sounded, someone was talking to him, but he didn't understand. He needed to get the ring back, he needed to make it right.

He needed Tony back.

It took them a while to get him to calm down. When he was able to tell them what had happened, their eyes widened, and Steve could see the pity in their faces.

He had lost the one thing that had remained.

Losing the ring was a setback. He was tempted to crawl under his blanket and not leave his bed for days, but Clint and Natasha kept him on his feet. Rhodes teamed up with them as well, and if none of them was around, Bruce and Thor didn't move from his side.

Although the loss hurt, although Steve often reached for his chest to find it empty, he improved again. The pain stayed, a constant ache in his heart, a constant longing for his partner, but it faded more and more into the background. Christmas came and went, and while it was terrible to celebrate without Tony, the team put up decorations, they gave each other presents. They laughed together, put on a Christmas movie, and were overjoyed when the first snowflakes started to fall.

Time healed, and when Valentine's day passed, and Clint finally asked out Natasha, Steve found himself wishing that Tony was by his side, but also accepting that he wouldn't be. The first anniversary of his death passed, ad Steve allowed himself to mourn on that day, but he was back with the team the next day.

Natasha had been right. Tony wouldn't want shim to waste his life. He'd want him to move on, to be happy. And while Steve didn't know whether he'd ever love someone again the way he'd loved Tony, he started to believe that he would be able to be happy again, to enjoy life again.

* * *

 _They were frequently called on missions now. Hydra was being quite proactive, and attacks happened all around the world. They barely had a moment to themselves, and the ongoing fighting had its toll on everyone._

 _They had just come back from Europe the day before when the alarm rang once again, and they were informed that robots were attacking DC._ _They got on the quinjet and Clint flew them there. While Natasha and Tony were discussing strategies, Steve watched his husband._

 _Tony suffered more than anyone else under the continuous load of work, under the constant stress. He'd tried to talk to him, but the genius had interrupted him immediately, and it had escalated into a fight. They were currently in one of the phases during which they ignored each other._ _They clashed during missions, and these little arguments fueled their anger at each other, prevented them from cracking._

 _For the first time, Steve was worried about his relationship. He didn't want to lose Tony, but he couldn't find the words to talk to him and express his fears, and so he stayed silent. Maybe he'd find an opportunity after they had defeated the robots._

 _Tony seemingly felt his gaze, because he came over, and there was softness in his eyes, a softness Steve hadn't seen in a long time._

 _"_ _Are you okay?", Tony wanted to know, and Steve nodded. There were so many things he wanted to stay, but the words got suck in his throat, couldn't get past the frog sitting there._

 _"_ _I have a bad feeling about this," Tony admitted, and Steve wanted to ask what he meant, but Clint announced their arrival, and Tony turned around to jump into action. Steve opened his mouth to say something, anything._

 _I love you._

 _I'm sorry._

 _Forgive me._

 _But no sound left his lips, and later, when Tony's suit was scattered across the streets of DC, he'd come to regret it._

* * *

It was always New York. Steve wondered what the city had ever done to deserve this fate, but he couldn't find an answer. Not that it really mattered, anyways. Although, he had to take a deep breath when he realized that they were fighting the same robots as they had during that one fateful battle.

They had taken Tony from him.

He clenched his fists, trying to keep thinking rationally. If he let his anger get the best of him, he'd be unable to lead his team, he'd just get them hurt. He wouldn't be able to lose someone else. He considered sitting this one out, but the robots had been strong, and they'd need every fighter they had.

His team needed him. The reassuring touch of the ring was still embedded into his pre-battle routine, he never reminded himself in time that the ring was gone. "You don't need a symbol to remember Tony," Bruce had said quietly, trying to cheer him up, and Steve always tried to remember himself of these words whenever his fingers touched his empty chest.

He met up with his teammates and felt their anger. They all remembered these opponents, they all wanted to take revenge.

"Don't let your anger guide you," he asked of them, and Natasha shot him a bittersweet smile.

"Thought I'd have to remind you of that," and then the smile disappeared. "Do you want to stay here?"

Steve only shook his head, his shield weighing heavy in his hands.

They didn't do much better than the last time. Their opponents had improved their strategy, whoever was controlling the robots did a good job at splitting the Avengers up into smaller groups. And while the team did take some of them down, there seemed to be an endless amount of them.

Soon, Steve found himself alone in a street, trying to keep the robots from going after civilians. Over the comms, he could hear Clint cursing and somewhere in the distance, lighting lit up the sky. His stomach churned, he hadn't realized how far away from the rest of his team he had gotten.

They were leading him away, he suddenly understood.

They were trying to separate him, make sure backup would take a while to reach him.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he tried to turn back, but he was suddenly surrounded by metal figures. A group of robots was closing in on him, and panic rose in his chest. He tried to suppress it, he needed to be able to think to get out if this situation.

He thought about throwing his shield, but then he'd be defenseless. So he opted for the more physical approach – he let them get closer, and then attacked them.

They had killed Tony.

And Steve knew, if he didn't act, quickly, they'd also kill him. It wouldn't be as spectacular, he was in a dark alley, no people were around – no one would film his death. But it would affect the team nonetheless, and Steve didn't want his friends to hurt more. So he fought.

He tried to gain energy from his anger, adrenaline rushed through his veins, but they just kept coming, there too many of them. He should ask War Machine or Thor to get him out, but they just kept coming closer, and he panicked.

A metal hand grabbed the shield, and he tried to hold on, but something hit the back of his head. Sharp pain blinded him, and with a gasp, he let go of the shield. Instead, he threw his elbow back, hitting something metal, but he was sure it wasn't strong enough.

"Steve?", Natasha's alarmed voice rang in his ears, and he tried to answer, but no sound came out. A heavy blow hit his stomach and pressed all air out of his lungs, he staggered back a few steps. The shield was hurled at him, he managed to duck – he wouldn't be killed by his own weapon, thank you very much.

He didn't even feel the pain as a metal hand pulled sharply on his leg, didn't feel his body crashing onto the floor. His leg was sticking from his body in an odd angle, it was probably broken, but he needed to get back up, he didn't have a choice.

He considered calling backup, but they wouldn't make it in time.

A robotic hand held him down, and he was turned around, facing the sky. A robot was leaning over him, and he tried to kick with his healthy leg, but it didn't move an inch. Instead, something metal came down on him, again and again. It pierced his suit, stabbed his stomach, his shoulder, his leg. His suit was suddenly soaked in blood, his vision got blurry.

This was how he'd die.

It seemed somewhat boring, especially compared to Tony. His lips managed to form a weak smile, as the world slipped further and further away. He'd finally get to see Tony again. Everything would be fine – he'd finally be complete again.

He blinked one last time, he could almost see familiar eye's starring at him, widened in panic. Tony's familiar facial features, a mouth moving. He could almost hear his name falling from those lips again, and warmth spread through his body as he gave in to the darkness.

Finally.

* * *

 **To Be Continued...**


	2. Lost - Tony

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything**

* * *

 _Warning: Torture_

* * *

 **Lost and Found - 2**

 **Lost - Tony**

* * *

They had assumed it would be an easy fight. They couldn't have been more wrong. Tony grimaced as he let his eyes wander over the streets under him. They were filled with robots who, at first glance, seemed weak, but had turned out to be a pain in the ass. Several of his teammates had gotten hit, and Steve had him worried when he was punched against a wall, but of course, Steve had the powers of the serum, Steve would be fine.

At least, that was what Tony told himself to keep calm. No need to freak out over anything now, especially since Steve and he had agreed that they'd keep their relationship off the battlefield. They did, however, let off steam after the fights, and Tony would definitely do it this time. He'd vent at Steve, although he hadn't talked to him for almost two weeks – disregarding their short conversation on the way to DC – and he'd enjoy being able to rub Steve's hypocrisy in his face.

But then again, maybe he was the hypocrite, he thought, as he got ready to blow apart the robot that had appeared in front of him. His suit was damaged badly, and he was pretty sure that Steve had at least once thought about pulling him out. He hadn't said anything, though – not that Tony would have listened, anyways.

He was too slow, and a bloodcurdling screech echoed in his ears as a part of the armor broke. He could feel something metal cut into his shoulder, and barely managed to repress a pained moan. Steve surely wouldn't have reacted to well to hearing that over the comms.

A metal fist connected with his head, and despite being protected by the armor, it hurt like hell. This time, the moan managed to get out, but he ignored the inquiry that immediately came over the comm. Though, to his surprise, it wasn't even Steve, but Natasha.

Instead, he aimed his repulsor at the robot and shot. He successfully took down several of them, before he heard Clint yelling for him. Automatically, he sunk lower to the ground, and found Clint just in time to catch him before he collided with the floor.

"Getting slow, old man," the archer teased, but relief and gratitude were evident in his voice.

Tony decided to disregard the comment and dropped him on another tower nearby. Clint smirked at him, and then grabbed an arrow, ready to continue his fight. Tony decided to do the same, but he had only managed to rise a few feet when something collided with him.

He was pushed towards the ground, the speed was too high, a crash would certainly be painful and most likely break the suit, but he couldn't manage to throw the robot off. A quick glance confirmed his suspicion that neither of his teammates had seen the attack – there went his hope of Clint shooting the metal beast.

When his back collided with the ground, it felt as if his body broke into thousands of tiny little pieces. It took his breath away, and for everlasting seconds, he couldn't breathe. He was gasping for air, and he almost found himself under water again, struggling to break free. But then it sounded as if metal was about to break, and he realized he couldn't breathe because a metal arm was choking him. He tried to yank it off, but the robot was surprisingly strong,

Air flowed into his lungs when he finally succeeded, but his relief was short-lived. The robot had decided to continue by punching his head, and Tony had never been so happy about the faceplate before. But then a well-aimed hit managed to displace one of the metal place of his suit, and the edge cut into the wires, causing the system in his suit to turn off.

Surprised, Tony stopped fighting. And then watched baffled as the robot, seemingly out of nowhere, turned away and focused his attention elsewhere.

He'd been sure he was done for.

Tony rebooted the system, and quickly realized that, while most things were still working, the wire that powered his comm had been affected, and that the reason why his teammates weren't answering to his requests was because they couldn't hear him.

He sighed.

"JARVIS?"; he asked, but his AI didn't reply either.

That did make him panic. It had been a while since he had flown a suit that wasn't connected to JARVIS. Not since Afghanistan, to be exact. He wondered how the connection to his AI could have been interrupted, but he pushed the thought aside. He wondered whether he should pull out – Steve would kill him after the fight if he didn't – but then decided against it.

He'd just stay in the air, have an overview, react if necessary. He didn't JARVIS to fly the suit, JARVIS just made things easier. When he ascended, he saw Cap's worried face, and gave him a thumb up. Judging by the mouth movements, Steve was talking to him, but he couldn't hear. Steve would be furious for ignoring orders again, he knew that much.

Gone was the idea that maybe, for once, he'd be able to be the one to call out his husband. Oh, well.

For a while, it worked. He was defensive, stayed away from the active fighting and only acted when one of his teammates needed help. Apparently, they had figured out that he couldn't hear them – or thought he continuously ignored them and gave up on him, although the latter one would definitely get him into trouble. He did see the glances Steve threw his way from time to time.

He was fine, though.

Until he wasn't. The robots appeared out of nowhere, he suddenly found himself surrounded. He wondered if he'd be able to save the suit once the fight was over, or of he should just build a new one. Another punch hit his shoulder, and he wondered if he'd make it out of this fight, at all. The metal piece stuck in his shoulder was driven in deeper, and Tony realized he needed to get out of this suit.

Or the robots would kill him.

He managed to kill one off and escaped from the others by shooting towards the ground. He was back in another alleyway, a bit away from the battle scene. Relieved, he initiated the disassembly of his suit as soon as his feet touched the ground, his mind racing, trying to figure out how he could tell his team that he was out without rushing back into battle.

He stopped out of the suit, deciding to keep it hidden here, and return later to bring it back to the tower. Maybe Steve would get it for him, if he asked nicely, he thought, as the world started spinning around him. He could feel blood dripping out of the wound on his shoulder, and as he took a small step forward, he realized that his feet could barely carry him.

He didn't hear the woman sneaking up behind him. He didn't feel the needle that poked his lower back, but he did notice that his surroundings got blurrier, and that breathing became harder. The darkness that was reaching for him felt like a welcome save haven.

* * *

 _It had been a spontaneous decision to invite them to move into the tower. At first, it seemed as if they'd decline, but after a seemingly never-ending moment of hesitation, Bruce had been the first one to agree. Thor had followed, jovially accepting the invitation. Clint and Natasha had shared a long glance, and then also accepted his proposal – although, Natasha had seemed surprise that he also included her in the offer._

 _He hadn't been able to predict the Captain's reaction. The man had seemed to hate his guts – why, Tony hadn't known – and Tony had been almost certain he'd decline. But he hadn't._

 _And so he found himself surrounded by five other superheroes. Pepper later told him it was quite amusing to watch them grow closer. At first, it had been awkward. They all had trust issues, didn't necessarily like being amongst other people. But slowly, their walls had disappeared, short conversations had turned into shared meals, lone nights in their apartments had turned into team activities – Tony loved movie nights, although he could really do without the sparring sessions._

 _To his surprise, the Cap had showed up in his lab shortly after moving in and had apologized. Tony hadn't shown it, but it had meant the world to him to hear nice words from his childhood idol. They spent more time together after, Cap became Steve, and Tony found he enjoyed the company._

 _He tried to not think about the fact that, the closer he grew to the team – Steve – the bigger the raft between Pepper and him seemed to get._

* * *

When he came to his senses, everything was dark. He blinked, his eyelashes touching fabric in the process. He was blindfolded, he concluded, and unwelcome memories from Afghanistan tried to break free from the prison he'd put them in. His hands were tied behind his back, uncomfortably rubbing against the wood of the chair he was sitting on.

He desperately tried to remember what had happened, but his head was pounding, and he groaned. Later, he'd try to figure it out later.

He felt weak, his muscles were aching. His throat was dry, and sharp pain shot through his shoulder when he tried to move his arm. A battle, he remembered. Robots. They had fucked him up pretty badly, he had lost contact with the team.

Steve would be furious, Tony thought.

It was cold, and he wished he could sink into Steve's arms and soak in the soldier's heat. Steve was always warm, no matter what. He would do that once he got out of here, he decided. He remembered being upset at Steve for some insignificant disagreement, his pride had kept him from talking to him, so Steve would probably need some coaxing, but he really wanted that hug. And more, once he was better. Not so tired.

He tried to keep his eyes open, tried to fight the fatigue, but he found he couldn't, and sunk back into the darkness that embraced him. He didn't feel the pain, the cold. Before giving in, he wondered whether they had drugged him. They probably had.

He fell in and out of consciousness, no one was ever there when he was awake enough to take notice of his surroundings. He never remembered waking up before, the cold creeping into his body more and more, and sometimes he panicked when he felt the blindfold and his tied hands. Only darkness could pull him out of those attacks, until the next one started.

Sometimes, he imagined Steve. They'd come for him. Steve would come for him, would get him out. There was nothing he was more certain of. Those times, he was calm, could almost think clearly, until his eyelids closed again, and he was pulled back into darkness.

They definitely drugged him.

Next time he opened his eyes, the blindfold had come off. He was blinded by the light, immediately shut his eyes again. His whole body was aching, and he didn't have the energy to move, he just tiredly sunk against the back of the chair.

His arms were sore from being kept in his uncomfortable position.

When he opened his eyes again, slowly adjusting to the light, he saw a person there. Hadn't taken notice of him before, and Tony got mad at himself. He was better than that, he had to pay attention. Maybe he'd be able to catch something that would be useful once the team was here.

They'd come and get him out.

Somehow, he felt as if he'd told himself that sentence before, but he couldn't be sure. He couldn't recall anything, didn't know how long he'd already been in the hands of his enemies. But he hung to the words, they gave him strength. Hope. Steve wouldn't rest until he was back by his side.

He recognized the emblem on the shoulder. Hydra. He tried to remember whether they had fought against Hydra, but he could only think of robots. Robots that were kicking his ass, but robots nevertheless. What was he doing with Hydra then?

"You have been with us for a week now, Mr. Stark," the agent said, and it took Tony a second to comprehend – what the hell took Steve so long? Then he decided to act as if he hadn't heard.

"Your friends are alive, in case you were wondering. The bots disappeared after they got their job done. You walked into the trap with open eyes, Stark. And here I thought you are a genius!"

A quiet chuckle. Memories rushed through Tony's brain as he remembered the fight, and he tried to focus on the man in front of him to keep from panicking again.

"What job?"

"They were supposed to bring you down, and it was so much easier than expected. You were so out of it. It was fun, actually. Hearing your teammates screaming at you, they were so mad at you for ignoring their orders. Barton almost died because you weren't there to catch him. Your thunder-god barely got him."

Oh.

"And then you had to go and get yourself kidnapped. They are so disappointed in you, Tony. You should have been so much better."

It made sense. He had disappointed Steve before, hell, he hadn't talked to him for two weeks, only because Steve had wanted him to take it a bit slower. So, sure, his friends would run out of patience eventually. But Tony knew them. No matter how mad they were, they'd get him out. If only to kill him themselves.

"They'll come for me," he voiced his thoughts.

Another chuckle. Tony really started to resent that guy.

"What do you want from me?"

"We need your genius, Stark. Though I start to doubt it, really. But, yeah, we could really use your brain."

And then the lights turned off, Tony was surrounded by darkness again. He tried to make sense of the words, knew what they meant, but he felt dizziness overcome him again, but this time he tried to fight it. His efforts were fruitless, the drugs were stronger, and despair filled Tony's heart.

Steve would come for him.

* * *

 _At first, he had thought he'd only imagined it. It must have been coincidence that Steve got up from the table as soon as Tony sat down, especially since Natasha and Bruce carried on their conversation. But then Steve stopped coming down to the lab, which hurt Tony quite a bit, even if he would never admit it to anyone else._

 _Anyone except Pepper. He talked to her about it, and she gave him a knowing look. "Oh Tony," she said, and pulled him into a tight hug. Which came unexpectedly, especially since they had broken up several weeks ago. Pepper hadn't been able to handle the constant worry that came with loving a superhero, although Tony hated being called that._

 _It had nothing to do with Steve. Or, so he told himself. But he knew that Pepper knew, and the knowing smile around her lips confirmed this suspicion._

 _"_ _Talk to him, Tony," she pushed him._

 _He didn't listen to her advice. On missions, Cap still treated him normal, whatever problem he had didn't affect their working relationship. So he told himself there was no problem. He was just imagining it. Steve had probably just gotten bored of hanging around in the workshop and didn't even know that Tony was haunted by his absence._

 _But then again, maybe he didn't imagine it. When Steve go up from the couch as soon as Tony sat down, the genius got confused. He hadn't even sat down next to Steve, but on armchair, yet the soldier shot up and hastily murmured an excuse before rushing out of the room. Dumbfounded, Tony stared after him._

 _"_ _Did you two have a fight?", Bruce, who occupied the second couch, asked, and it was the last straw._

 _He had JARVIS tell him when he could catch Steve alone, and he got his chance two days later in the kitchen. Somehow, that meeting ended with Steve losing control, and his lips suddenly plastered on Tony's._

 _Not that the billionaire would complain._

* * *

It must have been months by now, Tony thought. They had established a routine. A painful, bone-breaking cycle.

They would come and get him from the room. He was never strong enough to break free, although he figured that, if he wanted to escape, those moments would be his best chance. If they'd only stop drugging him. They had lowered the dose, but it still weakened his body.

They'd push him into another room, where he'd be tied up tightly, to ensure he couldn't escape. At this point, they'd wait until the drugs had worn off, they wanted Tony to be there when they started torturing him. And torture him, they did.

He couldn't even say what he hated more. Water, electricity, coldness, heat – no matter what they decided to use this time, it always ended in pain for him. The pain was accompanied by memories, he'd experienced water-boarding before. They knew, it was the method they used the most often. Again and again, until Tony was nothing more than a blabbering mess, and they continued, until he passed out.

Then, he always found himself back in his cell, where they'd let him heal – physically and, to some extent at least, mentally – before they'd come for him again. He had gotten used to this routine, it was predictable.

A couple weeks ago, they had broken his legs. Not his arms. "You're lucky you'll need your hands to build the weapon," the agent had jeered, while Tony had been fighting for air. His body had consisted of pain only, and the sound of his bones giving in had rung in his ears for several days after.

His legs still weren't completely healed. They'd had left him alone for longer this time.

His team hadn't come. He clung to the hope that they'd show up eventually, that they wouldn't give up in him, but deep inside, he knew it was in vain. If they cared, they'd have gotten him out by now, and that knowledge burnt bitter in his heart. The ring on his finger became heavier with each day that passed. It served as an anchor, pulled him back to the world when he got too lost in the drugs, but it also served as a reminder of what he lost.

He'd lost his team, his friends.

But even more, he'd lost the man he loved.

Sometimes, he got angry at them. He knew that, had their positions been reversed, he wouldn't rest until he'd find them, no matter how much they let him down. In these moments, the betrayal poisoned his thoughts, and resentment towards them started to grow. He had considered them his friends, but had they ever considered him their friend, as well? He never let his thoughts wander towards Steve. He wouldn't be able to bear that. It was the worst betrayal of all of them.

But then he managed to get out of this train of thought, and kept telling himself that they'd come. They just hadn't found him yet.

When the door opened again, Tony knew what he had to expect. It was water again, of course. He tried to fight it, but by now the thought of water alone managed to induce a panic attack, and no matter how hard he tried to slow down his racing heart, he couldn't. He struggled to get air before his face had even gotten in contact with the liquid, and two of their agents had to come running up and detain his flailing limps – he'd managed to tear the rope they'd used to render him immobile.

He couldn't even feel relief when they finally stopped, when they finally dragged him back to his cell. He was out of it, he was tired of it. His eyes barely open, he still heaved heavily He just couldn't get enough air into his lungs, and his muscles didn't relax until the drugs pulled him back into the comforting darkness.

It was an ongoing cycle, and Tony didn't know how much longer he'd be able to stand it.

The next time they dragged him out of the room, he was visited by their leader, who carried several papers in his hands. They stood in silence, Tony waiting for him to start speaking, and not having to say anything himself. In the beginning, he'd been snappy, he'd mouthed back. He'd been confident, thinking he'd get out soon.

He had learned his lesson.

"You still refuse to build the weapon for us," the agent started, Tony didn't dignify it with an answer.

"You still believe that they'll come and save you," there was definitely pity in his voice. But it didn't deserve an answer. Not that the Hydra man expected one, he immediately shoved one of the papers in Tony's face.

It showed the Avengers during a battle. Tony blinked at the unexpected sight, he hadn't seen them in so long, and he eagerly scanned the picture. Steve, in his uniform. Natasha, Clint, Thor. Bruce was missing. And – his eyes widened in confusion. There was War Machine, giving them aerial support.

"They replaced you, Tony. Your best friend has taken your spot on the team. They won't come for you, they don't need you anymore. He's so much better than you, anyway. Reliable, if you get what I mean."

Another picture. At first, he didn't understand. It was just a picture of his tower, standing out from all the other skyscrapers in New York. It took him a second to figure out that his name was missing. His name was gone.

"They renamed it, you know. It only reminded them of you, and no one could stand it. It's the Avengers' Tower now, it belongs to them. They only ever wanted your money, Tony. Your funds. Not you."

He choked for air, his shoulders sunk in defeat and he averted his eyes. But a strong hand grabbed his chin, forced him to look at the last picture. It was the one that broke Tony. He would have been able to take anything, but not this.

It showed Steve, for once not in his Captain America uniform. It was a close up, showing only his upper body and his face. He was talking to some people, had his hands lifted, apparently gesturing animatedly. Tony took in the picture, searched for every detail. The hair that seemed to be a tad longer than it had been. The shirt, accentuating the muscles that were hidden underneath. His hands, his – "No!"

Tony's heart started beating frantically, he wasn't aware of the pained yelp that left his throat. The imagine of Steve's empty fingers burnt into his eyes, he'd never forget. Steve had taken off the ring, his wedding ring.

Steve had given up on him, as well.

Tony's body fell numb, and he barely took notice of the agent leaving, of the door falling back into its lock. They hadn't cared about him, wouldn't come for him. Steve hadn't cared enough, Steve wouldn't try to rescue him.

What had he ever done to deserve this?

Knowing that his friends had abandoned him broke Tony. He stoically endured the torture, his insides were numb, dead. He didn't fight them anymore – what for? – but he also didn't give them what they wanted. His choice to stop making weapons hadn't had anything to do with the Avengers. And while they had betrayed him, he wouldn't give their enemies weapons to take them down.

He still cared, even if he shouldn't.

He told his captors that he wouldn't build weapons. He got punished for it, but he didn't feel the pain anymore. Until they took him to the room again, and strapped him into an odd-looking machine. Had he been in his right mind, he would have realized what was going on. But he wasn't, and so he took it quietly.

"I don't think – The machine isn't ready!", someone tried to protest, but the agent waved aside these concerns and pressed the handle.

And suddenly, Tony's whole world was pain.

* * *

 _It felt like a dream. Tony had never been happier before, but also never been more scared. On the one hand, he had a team. He had friends who actually cared. Friends who dragged him out of his workshop when he had been gone too long, who made sure he ate, who were actually interested in his life._

 _On the other hand, he had Steve. And that part felt so unreal, Tony actually had to pinch himself several times. Because, really, Captain America? Secretly, he was waiting for Steve to grow tired of their relationship, to realize that he could do so much better._

 _Tony was selfish, he wouldn't tell Steve that._

 _Somehow, Steve didn't realize it. The first year seemed to fly by, and the end never came. After each of their fights, Tony feared that that would be it, but they always managed to resolve their problems. He was waiting for his teammates to get up and leave, but they stayed, as well._

 _Tony liked it. He liked the feeling of being loved, of being cared for. Plus, he cared as well. He missed Thor while the god was gone, and when Natasha went missing, he couldn't stop until he had found her, got her back._

 _After all, he had to show them that he cared as well, somehow._

 _Another year passed, and Steve still stayed. Tony didn't understand, but he was delighted._

 _New York was a prime target for villains, and Tony suddenly had to fear for his tower. It was his home, it was the place where he loved, together with his friends and Steve. If he lost the tower, they'd have to leave._

 _They defended their home successfully. And Tony, who couldn't bear the thought of losing Steve, decided to go for it – he knew that Steve would turn him down, but he wanted to have tried, he'd never know otherwise._

 _But Steve said yes, and Tony still didn't understand why._

* * *

He caught a glimpse of an image. Bright blue eyes, blonde hair. A funny looking suit. He knew that this image was important, it awoke something within him, and for a split second, it felt as if the solution was within his reach. But then the maze twisted, and the image was pushed out of his mind, soon to be forgotten again.

Reset.

He had a hole in his chest. He couldn't remember why. A glowing device was nestled in the hole, and he had an inkling that it was important. If only he could remember why taking it out would be a bad idea. It was a fascinating piece of tech, and the part of him that subconsciously remembered his affinity for everything regarding technology pushed him to do it. Mesmerized, he turned the device in his hands, the metal casing in his chest left empty.

"What are you doing?"", someone asked and a man rushed to him, pushing the device back where it belonged. He couldn't understand what the agent muttered, but he got the gist – don't take it out.

He'd been right, it was important. If only he could recall why. In one of the corners of the maze that was his mind, something loosened, the hint of a whisper. _Shrapnel_. The word echoed through his mind, but before it could surface, it got lost in the long corridors. They twisted, and turned, and the echo was long gone when he put his hand on the device again.

Reset.

They had given him orders and expected him to follow them. He had everything they deemed necessary – the materials, the tools, he even had access to a computer. He knew what they wanted, and yet he wasn't sure why they thought he was the right person to build it.

He stared at the screen helplessly, turning the blueprint. No matter from what angle he looked, it just appeared to be wrong. Something was missing, something didn't feel right. But it just wouldn't come to him.

He was building a weapon.

That thought didn't feel right, either. Had he designed weapons before? He couldn't remember, but judging by their faith in his skills, he had. So he should know this, he should figure out what he needed to improve the missile.

He didn't want to build weapons. Weapons killed innocent people.

Somewhere, deep inside the maze, an idea developed, and he found the solution. But the train of thought got lost, lost in the endless twists of his mind, and he continued to look at the screen helplessly. He'd fail, once again, and they'd punish him, once again. It wasn't his fault, though, he had tried.

It was their fault. They had done something to his brain.

Reset.

They were talking in the hallway. If he concentrated enough, he could overhear what they were saying. Concentrating was a hard task for him these days, but something told him, that this was important.

"- would take the Avengers out. But they are still going strong, they are closing in on us. We need to act quickly!"

Avengers. His eyes widened at that name, he had heard it before. If only he could think clearly, if only he could connect a memory with the word.

"We have to take Captain America out, it's our only chance. Decimate their numbers until they break. Stark should have been enough, but they are stronger than we thought"

Stark. _Tony._ A name, a familiar voice, full of love and affection.

Captain America. Blue eyes, haunting him. A familiar face, frowning disapprovingly.

Red and Gold. Whatever that was.

All gone, before he could catch the meaning, before he could register the memories, the images the words had unleashed.

"We can send the bots again, it was easy enough with Stark. This time, no captives. They have to kill Rogers."

"Let's not rush it, we need a plan if we want this to work. They won't fall for the same thing twice, we have enough time."

He tried to store the information, somewhere, deep in his mind. It was important, he knew that much. They were planning on killing someone. He needed to warn him. He needed to get out of here and warn them, needed -

Reset.

They were doing tests. He endured them, didn't really have a choice. While his body was slowly getting stronger, he was still not in top shape. Plus – why should he fight it? What was he fighting for? He was fighting for something, he had to be. But he just couldn't remember, and it killed him inside.

Sometimes, he saw those hauntingly blue eyes. He wondered whom they could belong to, that person meant something to him, he was almost certain. But – why had no one come for him yet? Why was he working for the bad guys?

Whoever the agents surrounding him were, they weren't good, he had figured out that much.

"The tests are all negative", someone said. "There isn't much we can do to get him back."

He had so many questions and no answers. He'd never get answers. He couldn't even register their words, he just wanted answers. He didn't know anything, couldn't break through the walls that hid his thoughts, kept his memories from surfacing.

"We damaged his brain too much. He's useless now."

He did catch that. So they had done something to him. They were the reason why he was a mess, why he had forgotten everything.

"We need to get rid of him!"

Reset.

Thunder reminded him of something. Lighting. He wasn't scared of thunderstorms, they had something eerily familiar. He felt almost comforted when the sound of thunder reached his ears.

Reset.

Hands, dragging him along the floor. He could have walked himself, but they wouldn't even give him that much dignity.

He hadn't managed to build their weapon. He had failed them, and now he would have to pay the price.

A familiar face, staring at him disapprovingly.

"And don't come back until your job is done!"

* * *

 _Their fights only kept getting more frequent. They were under constant stress, and Tony hated Hydra for putting that strain on his relationship._

 _Although, he was the one to blame. If only he and Cap didn't have completely opposing views on everything, of only he could actually listen to the orders Steve gave. But no, he always had to screw up._

 _The ride home after those missions was usually quiet, but once they were back in their quarters at the tower, there was yelling. Until one them rushed out the door – Steve, typically. Tony always stared after him, panicking, because, this was it, this had to be it, Steve wouldn't come back this time. But then, when Tony woke the next morning, Steve was there in the morning, anyways._

 _Until that one fight two weeks ago. It had been bad, they had yelled, and Steve hadn't left when things were going down a dangerous road, their argument had escalated, and they had started ignoring each other for days._

 _Tony hated it. He hated knowing that this was most likely the one fight that broke them. That he had finally succeeded in driving Steve away. And where Steve went, the Avengers would follow._

 _Ho let his gaze wander over them, as they were getting ready to fight. He'd miss them. He hadn't been a team player before, but he had enjoyed being part of this team. He wouldn't hold them back, though, he wouldn't be selfish._

 _The closer they got to DC, the uneasier he grew. At first, he thought it was because Steve was constantly watching him, but then he realized that, no, he was nervous about the mission._

 _"_ _I have a bad feeling about this," he told Steve, and it were the first words he said to his husband since their fight. There were so many more he wanted to say._

 _I'm sorry._

 _Don't leave me._

 _I love you._

 _But then they arrived in DC; and Tony turned away without uttering another word. Later, fading in and out of consciousness, between torture sessions, when numbness had taken over his body, he wondered whether the right words could have changed anything._

* * *

They dropped him off in a city. It looked oddly familiar, and he felt as if he was supposed to be here. Had been here before. Yet, he didn't know where to go, was lost, the streets around him appeared to be as much of a maze as his mind was.

Something pushed him towards one of the towers. It was huge, and ugly. Grey, and the only decoration was an enormous A attached to its façade. It drew a smile on his face.

"Home," he whispered, absent-mindedly, without realizing what was leaving his mouth. His eyes eagerly took in the sight. He was waiting for something, stood there several hours, but whatever he was waiting for, it didn't happen.

He spent the night in a park nearby and returned to the tower the next day. And the day after. Oddly enough, it comforted him, and he overheard people talking about the Avengers' Tower, and something in his mind stirred.

He had heard that name before, but he couldn't pinpoint where.

Time passed slowly. He didn't really have anything to do. In captivity, he at least had some tools to play around with, but now he had nothing. He was alone. Something within him protested, but it was only a quiet voice he was able to ignore very well.

He'd adjusted to living with that maze. He had lost his mind, had gone crazy, and people wouldn't be able to accept him, so he avoided talking to anyone. He understood that he needed to hide the device in his chest, it was probably dangerous to openly display such a nice piece of technology. As long as he kept it hidden, no one bothered him.

One night, a big thunderstorm kept him awake. He had found a place close to the tower, and could now watch in awe as lighting struck it. No, that wasn't right. Lightning didn't strike it, lightning was omitted from the tower. Amazed, he took in the show, a hidden part of him satisfied with the sign of life – was it this he had been waiting for?

Life was surprisingly peaceful. Yes, he lived on the street, but he found he didn't mind – it was definitely an improvement compared to the cell he had occupied during his captivity. Although, he could barely remember anything from that time, and after a while, it was nothing but another nightmare that haunted him in his dreams, when the maze loosened up, but was forgotten once he opened his eyes.

The peacefulness didn't last too long. With horror he watched as robots descended into the city and started to demolish buildings, started to go after innocent people. He quickly scrambled to his feet and his in an alleyway. Every cell within him screamed at him, he wanted to go out there help the heroes, but he couldn't.

It was almost like an instinct, and it felt terrible to oppress, but he just crouched further and further into the secluded corner. When he closed his eyes and put his hands over his ears, he could almost pretend that nothing was happening.

When he closed his eyes, he saw a flash of something red and gold. " _Tony!_ ", a voice yelled, but both the image and the sound were gone as soon as he had remembered them. The traces of tears on his cheeks stayed.

He had thought it would be a good hiding spot, but apparently, he had been wrong. He peeked curiously when he could hear the sound of metal crashing against metal, and terrified he watched as a group of robots attacked one of the superheroes.

It was the one with the colorful suit.

Steve, something inside him whispered, but went unheard.

He watched as the hero got overpowered, fell to the ground. A metal fist collided with the motionless body, again and again, until blood was splattering everywhere, and he had to close his eyes again. All he could see was blood.

He rushed towards the fallen man when the robots disappeared, pleased with the fact that they had done their job. His stomach churned when he took in the blood. He was still breathing. He was still alive.

"Steve, are you alright?", a distant voice sounded, and it took him a second to realize that the voice was coming out of the earpiece.

Steve. Blue eyes staring at him disapprovingly – a memory long forgotten.

"Hold on, I'll get help. Oh, please don't die," he begged, searching for life in the fallen man's face.

His past was there, his answers were finally within reach, but then the maze shifted, blocked the path to the memories that were buried deep within his head.

Reset.

He was covered in blood. It wasn't his blood, he knew as much. It was the blood of the person lying on the floor next to him. The fighter was severely wounded, gasping for air. He wondered whether that was his fault. It must have been his doing, he was a monster.

He could still do right.

He tried to lift the body, but it was too heavy. Instead, he grabbed him under his armpits and started pulling. He just needed to get out of the alley, to the main road. There were people, someone there would be able to help.

He'd get arrested.

The body felt familiar, his fingertips were itching, He pulled, and made progress, but he wouldn't be fast enough. A desperate sigh escaped his lips, and he sunk to his knees. He had failed. It probably wasn't the first failure, either, but this time, someone would die, and it'd be his fault.

He was a monster.

He didn't hear the footsteps coming up behind. But suddenly, there were two people, both dressed in black.

"Steve," the redhaired woman exclaimed, horror evident in her voice. She ignored his presence, leaning over the body instead.

The man – an archer – was talking quietly, and seconds later, lightning lit up the sky and a third man appeared. The unconscious body was tenderly lifted up from the ground, and with a "I'll get him to the tower!" the blonde disappeared.

The redhead stayed on her knees. She was starring at the puddle of blood in front of her, and the archer stepped behind her, putting a hand on her shoulder.

He tore his glance away from the two.

"I'm sorry!", his voice was barely more than a whisper, but loud enough to alert the two fighters to his presence. "I'm so sorry!"

He looked up, and found them looking at him. He was prepared for hate, fully expected them to attack him, to kill him and get even for what he'd done to their friend. But instead, he found disbelief in their eyes.

The archer took a step back.

"This is impossible," he said, his eyes wide, his voice almost failing.

"Tony?"


End file.
